


The Truth (and Other Nebulous Things)

by Chill_with_Penguins



Category: Wicked - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending AU, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Internalized Homophobia, Multi, My First AO3 Post, Polyamory, the characters took over, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 20:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13795842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chill_with_Penguins/pseuds/Chill_with_Penguins
Summary: They migrate between beds like some sort of strange, three-bodied alien, always pressed together in tangled limbs and huffed laughter and gentle teasing. It works, somehow, and days turn into weeks turn into months, and for the first time ever, Elphaba thinks--hopes--suspects--she might not be aloneORNone of them were supposed to interact at Shiz. They should've been separate, should never have even crossed paths, really, but they did and they can't change that and to be honest, they wouldn't do it even if they could. What they have is too good to be stopped by little things like society.





	The Truth (and Other Nebulous Things)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first, thanks for clicking on my story!! <3 
> 
> Fair warning, this might be a little OOC behavior--I'm basing their characterization on nothing but the songs from the musical and some background info on Wiki, so it might be a little rough. This was supposed to just be a closer look into the dynamic during the years at Shiz with the love triangle, and it was supposed to just be Elphaba/Glinda, but Fiyero's a dick who wouldn't stay out of the story, so now I have this. 
> 
> It was also supposed to follow the same ending as Wicked, but they overpowered me and I couldn't do it, ergo, happy ending. Hopefully it doesn't suck :)

This is how it begins: in an empty dorm room that smells like wood polish, two girls staring each other down, a rivalry already brewing--

Well, no. That's not the beginning. It actually begins like this: on opposite ends of a world that hasn't yet been connected by a road (it will shine like gold in the sun), two women are in labor, blood-slicked and sweaty and--

No, that's not it either. 

Here's the truth: there is no beginning. There is no end. There simply is, because that is what it is to live, events tangled like spider-silk in dawn's light. No causation or correlation or reason, just a series of mistakes and apologies and beautiful, breath-taking moments that combine over years, over eons, until suddenly you're blinking and it's all rushing past you, memories like grains of sand through an hourglass, and  _ time's up _ \--

~

They are both really, extremely, intolerably drunk when they make the promise. 

Years later, when Glinda will try to explain everything, the words will throw their feet down and refuse to compromise. Lies will come tumbling out, one after the other: " _ It's not really a big deal _ " or " _ It's just a bit of fun _ " or " _ No, it doesn't mean anything _ " or her least favorite, " _ We were drunk. It was a mistake. _ " There are many times she lets the truth slip through those pretty, perfect lips, but only two other people knows what exactly that truth is.

At the time, though, when Glinda is stumbling away from the elegantly boisterous sounds of the party while the world sways around her, she's just another drunk girl at another college party. 

She's feeling her way down the corridor, afraid to open her eyes--(her parents would never forgive her if she barfed on such nice marble floors)--when she stumbles into the room. It's completely dark, save a few quiet streaks of moonlight that gleam off the floor from an open curtain, so it takes her a few minutes to notice the other girl. When she finally does, she's paralyzed under that frigid gaze. 

"I'll, um," she manages, berating herself for her inattention, "I'll just go. Sorry to bother you."

"Don't bother," Elphaba drawls, her own intoxication blurring her words together. "It's not like we aren't going to have to sleep in the same room tonight."

Glinda thinks about arguing, but she's not entirely sure she  _ can _ stand back up now, so instead she slumps all the way down onto the floor (keeping a safe distance in case her roommate decides to attack her or something). She squashes the nice black hat she'd lent Elphaba for the party, but she can't quite bring herself to care at the moment. 

"I hate parties," Elphaba announces suddenly, shattering the illusion of peace between them. The moonlight is slanting across her features, and in the dark, her skin doesn't seem quite so green--paler, almost, like a fresh bud in the spring rather than the deep emerald green Glinda's used to. Her lips are pulled into an undignified pout, and she reeks of cheap gin. 

Glinda almost says "me too", but thinks better of it. The last thing she needs is the truth getting in the way of her reputation. 

"There are so many people in one place, all whispering and scowling and judging me, and no one seems to care about discussing  _ important _ things, like fixing all of Oz's problems; they're much too busy arguing about whose dress is the prettiest. It's all so stupid and wasteful and petty!" snaps the girl who was born unloved. She has had to claw her way to the ability to go to school, has felt blood crusted under her fingernails after attacks from those around her, has known the sting of a slap when she couldn't be good enough. 

Not that Glinda knows all this. Not that she ever will. (Until she does.)

Glinda doesn't respond, partly because she still feels really nauseous and partly because she doesn't trust herself not to agree. They sit in silence for a long time, long enough that both girls are shifting uncomfortably when Elphaba breaks the silence again. 

"Well, go on. Tell me about how wrong I am and how wonderful parties are and how you're going to fix me."

"Can't. Too tired," Glinda says, and then, because she's exhausted and lonely and doesn't stop herself soon enough, "And you're right, anyway. The whole thing's stupid."

Elphaba blinks, sits up straighter, leans in. Glinda forgets to flinch away, focused on breathing in and out. 

"Seriously? I'm right?"

"Sure," Glinda says, already cursing own idiocy. "Just don't tell anyone I said that."

Elphaba's face goes on lockdown again--the face of a warrior, of a scholar, of a girl who is used to being discarded. "That figures. Precious, golden Glinda doesn't want anyone to think she isn't the perfect popular girl--tell me, do you get tired of walking around with that stick up your ass all the time, or are you just used to it?"

And this is why Glinda should've known better. She buries her head between her knees, prays to the Wizard that her stomach will stop twirling, and mumbles something that sounds like "Fuck off."

"No, no," continues Elphaba, in the typical way of a teenager who can smell victory approaching. "Why do you hate parties? Is it that your arm gets sore after signing so many autographs? Is it exhausting, being a celebrity?"

"Maybe," Glinda interrupts, her voice sharp with flecks of pain because her head will not stop  _ throbbing _ , "I just get sick of spending all my time around people who are so lost in self-pity that they assume no one else has ever had a bad day. Maybe I don't want to waste my time on people who assume they know my life story before they even give me a chance."

Elphaba falls silent, out of respect or shock at her response, Glinda can't tell. She also can't really care. 

The girl who has spent her life on a pedestal, always a breath away from tumbling down, curls tighter into herself. She has spent a lifetime breathing anxiety, shoving away the voice at the back of her head that screams she's doing it all wrong. She has surpassed every expectation set by her parents, and when they grew tired of showing off that excellence, she has surpassed every new expectation they could possibly lay down. She has spent her life building up and up and up, always terrified of failure, always unsure of who loved her for herself and who would leave the second she stopped being perfect. 

Not that Elphaba knows any of this. Not that she ever will. (Until she does.)

The silence drags on again, and the party is starting to die down when the green-skinned girl speaks again. "Okay then. Let's hear it. What's wrong? What's your life story?"

Glinda nearly bites off her own tongue in her haste to not answer, but when Elphaba keeps waiting, those dark eyes trained on her, she eventually gives up. "It's none of your business. I just... I get tired of people treating me like something to idolize, like something separate, like something to put on a shelf. That's why I don't like parties."

Elphaba just keeps watching her, those intelligent eyes not so much as blinking as she tries to piece this into her pre-existing picture of blonde perfection. 

"Well, at least I don't think you're worth raising as an idol," she finally announces, rolling her shoulders. "And hey, if you think that's bad, just try walking around with green skin and having people treat you like a monster."

Glinda snorts. "People are stupid."

"Agreed."

"I--" Glinda hesitates, but only for a brief second before the words come tumbling out, water through cracks in a dam. "I don't think you're a monster at all. I think you're very, very smart, and I think sometimes that scares people. And, for the record, I don't think you need to be fixed at all. That's not what I meant when I told you I wanted to help you; I just think you'll have an easier time if you learn how to blend in with your actions, that's all."

The two look at each other, cautious, timid smiles forming while the other students file away into the cold night air, leaving them with an empty building and the teetering beginning of something almost like friendship. 

"Aren't we quite a pair," Elphaba laughs, wry amusement gleaming in her eyes. "One girl people think of as a deity, the other people think of as little more than a beast."

"Do you think... I mean, maybe we could meet in the middle? Agree not to treat each other any particular way, but just like  _ people _ ?" Glinda suggests, her voice raw and fragile. Half of her mind is screaming _ what are you thinking why no no no _ , but the rest of her is too inebriated to care, so she just sits, waiting for an answer. 

"Yeah, I think we could," Elphaba says, that strange, soft smile foreign on her face. 

"Promise?" Glinda askes, holding up her pinky finger. 

"Promise," Elphaba laughs, looping their hands together. "From now on, we're just people."

The next day, when Glinda asks herself how she could bear to touch someone so antagonistic, someone so... well,  _ different _ , she'll tell herself that it was just all the alcohol, that she wasn't thinking straight. It won't be the first or the last in a long line of lies Glinda tells herself. 

That lie won't stop her from clinging to the promise, though. 

~

Fiyero  had hoped (selfishly, foolishly) that the party would fix things. That maybe if he just threw the mother of all galas--booze and glitter and echoing laughter included--he’d somehow… click. Fit into place, perfectly at peace in yet another school. He’d found the girl already--blonde and beautiful and beloved--and was already training himself to shy away from the one who glittered like an emerald, to stay as far away as he could get from her night-black hair and endless eyes. 

They were both so beautiful it hurt sometimes. 

But anyways. The party was supposed to  _ fix  _ all this--he’s still disoriented from the move, from suddenly being so far away from the tribe and all that he calls home. And there’s nothing like a party to break in the new area. 

Except. 

These people party differently, and he keeps spouting off bullshit about  _ dancing through life  _ even though he all of all people knows it’s not that simple. (He is a prince; his life is always--never--about dancing; he dances around words and with diplomats and he doesn’t falter because if he does it all comes crashing down.) 

He had hoped to woo the golden girl. Glinda, her name is, and he hopes to whatever is out there that she’s as smart as people say she is, because if he has to dumb himself down for one more of these shallow people he might not make it through the night. But she’s not here, and he’s stuck watching the whirlwind of color and people and feeling less and less like part of the crowd. 

He slips away, at some point, tries to catch his breath in a quiet marble hallway, and hears quiet talking from within one of the rooms. He creeps closer and sees them both, watching each other softly in the moonlight, and the sight of it steals his breath away for a moment, because  _ damn  _ are they gorgeous. 

He forces a breath and turns back to this endless tide of pleasantries, leaving them to their… To them. Whatever. 

The party was a stupid idea anyways. 

~

"She's not a goddess," Elphaba snaps. Glinda flinches, surprised, but can't help the relief that floods through her. She's crouching in the library, trying to focus on this huge, ancient book on sorcery that's cracked open on her lap, but the voices from two rows down keep filtering in and breaking her concentration. 

They've been talking about her again. How wonderful she is, how beautiful, how perfect. How she must be blessed by the gods. How she will never fail at anything, never stumble, never miss a single beat, because she's  _ Glinda _ . 

It makes her stomach twist, hearing them. She wishes they'd stop--better yet, she wishes that  _ she'd _ stop, not that it'll ever happen. She'll keep pushing herself further and further and further, like Icarus flying to meet his fate just before he crashes to the sea. 

So when she hears Elphaba, jumping into their conversation with " _ she's not a goddess _ ", she thinks she might cry with happiness. She thinks she might be crying right now, actually, now that she thinks about it, and that's mildly concerning. 

"Oh, what would you know, freak?" one of the munchkins shoots back, venom in his voice. 

"More than you," Elphaba retorts, mimicking his tone precisely. "I'm her roommate. Glinda isn't perfect; she's just a person, like you or me."

"Well, look at you--a beast, thinking itself a man. You're as bad as those filthy Animals!" someone else shrieks, and giggles burst out across the space. 

There's the harsh, sudden sound of a book slamming closed, and they all shut up abruptly. 

"She snores," Elphaba announces, and strides away. 

Glinda sits in the shadows, book clutched close tight to her chest as she breathes, in and out, silently praising her unlikely savior. 

~

"She's not a monster," Glinda says, and she knows it was too quiet, but it doesn't matter, because she's  _ Glinda _ , and when she speaks, people stop and listen. All the eyes in the common room are on her now, anyway, so she's got to keep going. "I really appreciate how much you guys are willing to do for me, but... She's not a monster. She's my roommate, and she's just a normal girl--except for the green skin, of course."

There's laughter now, too much of it, too forced, but Glinda pushes on. Maybe, for once, she can use this cursed perceived perfection to her advantage. Maybe she can finally do something that feels  _ right _ rather than  _ expected _ . 

"I'm serious. Sure, we didn't get along great at first, but now I've gotten to know her a little better, and she's not a bad person at all. She's not very social, but... Well, can you blame her? She's very smart, though. And very driven."

Her crowd of admirers have fallen silent, and some are giving each other their trademarked "Poor Glinda, too nice for her own good" looks, but that's okay. Something tight in her chest has loosened a bit, and she can feel the relief of a bit of truth shining through the dark. 

She makes her way upstairs, leaving behind the disapproving looks, and falls asleep with a smile for the first time in months. 

~

This is how it begins: a monster and a goddess, meeting in the middle; a truce on the field of battle--

Except, wait. She isn't a monster. She isn't a goddess. And sometimes, dark-haired girls with sharp teeth have something in common with sun-haired girls with pale skin. 

(People always seem to forget that beneath the legend lies a  _ person _ .)

Maybe this is why it happens. Maybe it's a desperate, last-ditch attempt to cling to something more than their stories. Maybe they were two people who'd never truly been cared for, searching for someone to keep close. 

Or maybe not. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe it was nothing. 

Here's something that isn't a maybe: when it begins, it doesn't have a name. 

Everything else comes after. 

~

"Did you steal my clothes,  _ again _ ?" Glinda shouts as she rummages through her closet like a feral animal searching for food. 

Elphaba rolls her eyes and shifts her weight from one elbow to the other. "No," she says, her voice muffled from the highlighter between her teeth. "How many times do I have to tell you? I don't  _ want _ your clothes!"

Glinda gives a disbelieving scoff, but she's already migrated in her search to the bathroom, and she doesn't pause long enough to argue. "Then where in Oz did my lavender ball gown go?"

"Another Fiyero outing?" Elphaba askes dryly. 

"Oh, shut up. I happen to know you think he's cute, too!" Glinda calls back from where she's hastily applying cosmetics. 

"Cute, sure," she says, her eyes still focused on the textbook below her. "Just not worth wasting my time on."

"Have you  _ ever _ actually been on a date?" Glinda asks, only half teasing. 

"Again: not worth wasting my time on."

Glinda pauses at that. "But... But they're fun!"

"For you, maybe. I thought we were past the whole 'Project Turn Elphaba Into A Pod Person' thing, anyways."

"Oh, come on!" Glinda protests. "Don't tell me you've never wanted to spend extra time with someone, just hanging out, the two of you."

"I assume academic debates outside of class with professors don't count?" Elphaba asks, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"No," says the blonde, rolling her eyes. "That doesn't count."

"Then no."

Glinda hovers by the door, stunned, and Elphaba bites back a smirk as she mentally tallies another win. 

That is, until Glinda speaks again. "Fine," she announces, her foot hitting the ground while her arms cross. "Fiyero can wait. You and I are going on a date. The last thing we need is for you to get all the way through college and never so much as converse with other people."

Elphaba coughs, choking on the taste of plastic as she bolts upright. " _ Excuse me? _ " 

"You heard me! Now come on, you're going to put on one of those beautiful dresses I got you, and we're going to get ready together, and then we're going to go and eat and enjoy ourselves somewhere that  _ isn't _ covered in textbooks."

Elphaba is still sputtering, lost in the tempest that is Glinda Goodwitch. She blurts out the first excuse she can think of: "I burned them all."

Glinda spins around faster than she had ever thought possible, lightning flickering in those bright blue eyes. "You're joking. Those dresses cost me a  _ fortune _ !"

Elphaba settles back into her bed, shoves the guilt that settles into her chest away. "I needed to do an experiment, and they had the right kind of fabric."

Glinda still looks outraged, but it's settling down into more of a resigned, burdened expression, which Elphaba counts as a win. "Fine. You'll just have to borrow one of mine. You and I are going to have a long talk about the acceptable uses of top-line fashion when this is all over, you know."

Elphaba turns away, pretending to straighten an already-perfect pile of notes on the bookshelf so she can hide the traitorous smile that creeps across her lips. "I know."

Glinda moves in a flurry, covering their whole room in a fine layer of glitter (the stuff seems to magically appear wherever she goes; it's actually rather alarming) while she gets them both ready. They spend a new minimum of 36 minutes on make-up before they're out the door, rushing to make a reservation at some restaurant that poor Fiyero had been stood up for. 

And if Elphaba has to keep herself from laughing every time she straightens the crinkles in the azul fabric of Glinda's dress--if she has to bite her lip to keep from grinning wide at the foreign feeling of  _ belonging _ somewhere--if maybe she might have exaggerated the burning the dresses detail, if they're still laying at the bottom of her closet because no one has ever, ever gotten her such a present before--

\--Well, that's no one's business but her own, is it?

~

He shows up to his date and sees them both sitting there, wearing gorgeous dresses and laughing together in the golden afternoon light. 

He needs to leave. He needs to do… something, somewhere. He needs to  _ not be here  _ because even if the rest of the campus is in denial, he’s seen the way they they look at each other. He gives it a month, tops, before they’re together and he  _ cannot get in the way of that _ . He can’t be  _ that  _ selfish, can he?

Except he is, of course, because he’s a prince and he’s never been able to deny himself what he wants. It’s a fault, one he’s spent years trying (failing) to fix, and--and that’s not even the point. He needs to walk away right now. He needs to leave them to their romance, to let them be, to move on or at least watch from a distance. He needs to do… something. 

He looks at them, smiles wide in the light, oblivious to the looks of everyone else in the restaurant, bubbled safely in their own little world. 

He walks forward.

~

Fiyero, of course, shows up halfway through the meal, pulls up a chair, and invites himself to the conversation. Glinda and Elphaba exchange a look that simultaneously conveys  _ sorry about this _ and _ it's not your fault _ and  _ ugh, boys _ and  _ oh, boys _ and a little bit of _ he's so hot why the hell is he so unfairly hot? _

Fiyero doesn't notice. He just keep rambling about the origin of the wheat used to make the bread that's lying forgotten in a basket on the side of the table. 

Elphaba tries not to, she really does--she's been actively trying to dislike Fiyero ever since he started monopolizing more and more of Glinda's time--but she can't help but be a little intrigued. He's got the enthusiasm of a puppy, an indescribably serene undertone, and the encyclopedic knowledge of... Well, her, actually. They go back and forth debating grains and floral evolution for a while, before shifting into the topic of Animal rights and natural selection and the issues of poaching and Poaching and murder, with Glinda chiming in here and there (because of course she's perfectly smart on top of all her other perfectness). By the end of the meal, she has a grudging respect for Fiyero, a full stomach, and the odd sensation of wanting  _ this _ again. Wanting... safe. Normal. Friends. 

The aching desire is put off a little by the familiar copper bite of panic, want tinged and tweaked until it feels familiar. Wistful. She lets the word  _ freak _ settle in like a second skin and reminds herself that Glinda is a strange, beautiful, miraculous exception; that no one will ever want her or love her and that  _ she is okay with that _ because the alternative to being okay is something so agonizing she can't even bring herself to picture it. 

She sucks in a breath, feels it scrape against the inside of her ribs, and bites her lip until she tastes blood. Wishing is one thing--painful and pitiful and wasteful, certainly, but something she can't avoid.  _ Hoping _ is a whole other shitstorm that she isn't prepared to deal with in the slightest. 

~

Evidently, the line between  _ wishing _ and  _ hoping _ doesn't even matter, because against her expectations--against her will--she finds herself spending more and more time with Fiyero and Glinda. The fear is still there, itching beneath her skin and pounding with her pulse; she stills hears her father's voice echoing the word  _ unloveable _ wherever she goes, but... But it's not all she hears anymore. 

Evenings alone, buried in books and highlighters and ideas that could shape the world slowly morph into watching the sunsets from the dorm roof, Fiyero on one side and Glinda on another, the three of them tucked together to keep warm while they argue about politics. They migrate between beds like some sort of strage, three-bodied alien, always pressed together in tangled limbs and huffed laughter and gentle teasing. It works, somehow, and days turn into weeks turn into months, and for the first time ever, Elphaba thinks--hopes--suspects--she might not be alone. 

~

The end of their time at Shiz sneaks up on Glinda. It shouldn't--she's made it her life's work to never be surprised by anything or anyone, for god's sake--but it does, and dammit, she blames Elphaba and Fiyero entirely. 

There's a weird feeling in her chest when she thinks of them--a kind of pang, like she just swallowed too much and she can't  _ breath _ for a second, like there's some sort of invisible line that envelopes her bloody, wrecked excuse for a heart, and it's  _ yanking _ her toward these idiots that somehow make her whole body glow with warmth and happiness and  _ rightness _ . 

(It's not a spell. She's checked--spent months researching enchantments because she's never felt so complete, not ever, and she thought maybe the way she doesn't always feel trapped and terrified anymore was some sort of magic done by Elphaba, but it's not and she isn't sure if that information is a relief or terrifying.)

But the point is this: college has been a weird, agonizing, drawn-out experience full of drama (look no further than their disastrous outings in the Emerald City and the mysterious fire that still hasn't gone out from the bakery that refused to serve a "monster" with green skin), but it's also been _ home _ in a weird way that she still hasn't quite come to terms with, and she's most definitely Not Okay with this ending. 

It doesn't help that lately, Fiyero and Elphaba have been sneaking off to be together, leaving her increasingly alone while she tries to cope with the idea of not being together with them all the time, and  _ dear god why does it hurt so much when they aren't there? _ Which brings her to tonight, all jangling nerves and anxiety and a half-empty suitcase, daring her to try and figure out which parts of her life are worth packing up and towing with her when she leaves. 

She looks at a closet and a half (yes, she took some of Elphaba's storage, but it's not like the other girl was even using it!) full of beautiful shoes and dresses and probably a life's fortune worth of delicate crystal beading. Her eyes drift back to the suitcase, still open and taunting her, and to Elphaba's pristinely cleared out side of the room. Gone are the pens and highlighters and notes scattered everywhere, and so is the roommate and it's just Glinda by herself, gnawing on her cheek while she tries not to throw up because _ oh god this is it and we all have to leave and how am I going to survive without these people there to hug and poke and throw the shitty junk food at? _

In the end, she decides not to bother with the rest of her clothes. She picks out the softest, comfiest, least shaping clothing and drops the rest of it in the donate pile, much to some poor, under-fashioned girl's excitement. 

And god, something is definitely wrong with her, because even the idea of fixing someone else's life rather than thinking about her own doesn't stop her stomach from churning. 

She does back to her room and lays on the bed, tossing and turning and desperately not thinking about the tight, solid heat in her chest when she's around the other two or her father's cold, imposing voice when he scoffed at the idea of two women liking each other or--

She curls on her side, fingernails pressed hard against the gentle, unmarked flesh of her palms. For the first time in a long time, she's alone. For the first time ever, she kind of wishes she wasn't. 

~

Okay, so yeah,  _ technically _ Fiyero hadn't gotten enough credits to graduate. Or attend graduation. Or be allowed on campus. But he's still sitting there, front row center with gleaming teeth and a sharp mind hidden behind soft features, while he waits for Glinda and Elphaba to walk across the stage. He has to suffer through almost two hours of other senseless idiots before he gets to them, yeah, but it's  _ so worth it  _ to see them, arm in arm, blushing and grinning and giggling and sometimes it blows him away, how much he loves them. 

When the professor calls for their Valedictorian, Glinda Goodwitch, thunderous cheers and applause ring out... Only to fade into complete and utter silence as both Glinda and Elphaba walk up to the stage. 

Which is, of course, his cue. He starts cheering and clapping with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm, considering he's literally the only person making a sound in a sea of thousands, but it's worth it to see the last of the stress disappear off their faces. 

"Hello, everyone," Glinda begins, taking in a deep breath as she did so. She and Elphaba are both crowded behind the podium, their arms pressed up, side to side, and he's spent enough time with them--has been part of the squashed sandwich of them--enough times to know that the slight relax of Glinda's shoulders only comes after Elphaba squeezes her hand. "We're all about to head out into the world--the real world, where things are terrifying and messy and imperfect--and it's important to remember that nothing and no one is quite as it seems."

And just like that, the audience is hooked, Fiyero included--and he'd even been in on the planning of this little scene. 

Glinda and Elphaba make their speech--there's always a hidden side to everything, don't judge someone until you've been in their place--and maybe the thing doesn't go off without a hitch, but it's still them (Glinda-Fiyero-Elphaba) and so to him it's perfect. 

Afterwards, when the three of them head out for celebratory drinks and they present the new apartment key to Glinda, she cries a little--or maybe a lot--and he and Elphaba have to spend an unexpected amount of time reassuring her that  _ no, she's really not getting left behind _ and  _ yes, you better goddamn well be moving with us, because who else is going to decorate  _ and sitting there, all happy-sad and overwhelmed and a little scared, Fiyero feels this rush of red-hot feeling and he knows, deeper than he knew he could even feel, that he wants this. He wants them, everyday, always, for the rest of his life, and the depth of that knowledge floors him. 

Luckily (or maybe unluckily), Fiyero's always been good at ignoring the little voice in his head that tells him what he  _ should _ do. This is one of those times when he knows it's really more about being willing to take a leap of faith. 

(Fiyero knows all about leaps of faith; his whole life is built on them and he knows all too well that means it could all come crumbling down.)

(What Fiyero doesn't know, because he, like most people in the world, has a fundamentally fucked-up family, is that having Glinda and Elphaba means there's someone there to pick up the pieces when he crumbles.)

~

They live together for a year before anything really happens, but Glinda is waking up panting from odd dreams--dreams she shouldn't be having,  _ especially _ not about people sleeping right next to her--for the better portion of that year. She spends sleepless nights pale and shaking and trying to swallow the bitter taste in her mouth that comes with the memory of a face, pale with rage and lips fading to purple, as her father screamed obscenities about freaks. 

She tries to pretend that's not a word that's haunted her her whole perfect, beautiful life: freak, freak, freak, trailing behind her and writing itself between the stars. 

Some days it works. Some days it doesn't. She keeps living, keeping pushing and pulling oxygen through her aching lungs and bruised heart, and she learns not to hyperventilate before stepping foot outside the apartment, and finally, finally she's living her life. She cuts hair at a little salon downtown, while Fiyero washes dishes and Elphaba interns with a museum of Animal history, and life is good. 

And then Elphaba comes home, beaming, and says, "We're going on a date!"

Glinda glances up from where she's sprawled on the musty couch, a battered paperback propped up against her thighs. It takes a moment for those words to sink in, the weight of a little, "oh" escaping her lips, as she stares at her best friend (can't love her no no you don't you can't), making her face go carefully still. 

She forces a bright smile, says, "Well, we'll have to get you ready, then!", makes a hasty pretense of grabbing supplies from the bathroom, and escapes the heartbreaking, soul-crushing, beautifully-smiling girl in the living room. She gives herself exactly one second-- _ one breath in, one out, that's it Glinda _ \--to feel the weight of the devastation settle across her shoulders. She can't breathe through the pain of it for a moment--she can see her future spilling out in front of her now, months turning to years, watching her best friends fall in love and grow old and Glinda's bones turning to dust from the force of a love that she can't ever share. 

She straightens up, forces more choking air through her throat, and stares at her reflection, doing her best to ignore the chorus of self-esteem issues that are chanting that if she'd been a little more perfect, someone might have loved her. She gives herself a stern reminder that she's being selfish and stupid and egotistic--that she's happy for them, really, she is--that it's been a long time since she's seen Elphaba so excited for something--and grabs her make-up (just because it was an excuse to get out of the other room didn't make it untrue). 

Making her way back into the other room isn't hard--it's a matter of momentum, after all, and Glinda kicked ass at physics--but keeping a smile up feels herculean. She does it, though, all the way through Elphaba's excited ramble ("Fiyero and I were thinking of going out to that new burger place; what do you think?") and makes her best friend beautiful, focusing on how happy it will make them. It's almost bearable, and she thinks that it will get easier with time. 

She can do this. Probably. 

Hopefully. 

Then the doorbell is ringing, and she's realizing that Elphaba has been frowning at her for a while, and she must've just been staring at the wall for a while, and isn't that embarrassing?

"Sorry," she says, lying with practiced ease while the knife in her gut twists, "I'm pretty tired. It's been a long day."

"Oh, I'm sorry--should we reschedule?"

Glinda blinks,  confusion fogging over her thought process. "No. Why would you?"

"Well, I want you to enjoy yourself," Elphaba supplies. 

Glinda's baffled frown deepens. "Um, okay. But why would you reschedule your date because I'm tired? I can just sleep while you and Fiyero are out."

Now Elphaba's the one who looks confused. "What are you..." Her eyes light up as understanding clicks together, and she looks horrified. "Oh, no, Glinda! You're coming with us!"

"What?"

"I meant the  _ three _ of us are going on a date. I mean... unless you aren't comfortable with that or something. Which is totally fine! I'm not trying to--"

"Are you serious?" Glinda asks, her eyes wide. Something dangerously close to hope springs to life in her gut, and she tries not to think about those dreams--about the heat of a body pressed against her on either side. 

"Yeah. I thought that was obvious," Elphaba says. She looks dejected now, and Glinda would do anything to fix that, but she's a little busy having a minor mental breakdown right now. 

"I... I didn't think you guys would want..."

"Well, we do. Do you?" Elphaba asks, her expression hovering somewhere between hopeful and heartbroken. Glinda knows exactly how she feels. 

"Yes."

"Then... Should we go?" Elphaba says, her brows furrowed. 

"Nope," Glinda says, still feeling a little floaty from the overwhelming relief. "There is no way that I'm going on our date looking like this."

Elphaba rolls her eyes, but it's familiar and teasing. "Please. You look perfect already."

Glinda turns around to hide the flush in her cheeks, but there's a smile throwing mutiny and taking over her voice anyways. "I do not! Just give me..." she pauses to check the time,  "30 minutes?"

"Got it. I'll tell Fiyero he'll have to wait three more hours."

"You're being ridiculous!" Glinda calls as she rushes into the next room. She doesn't really care about the ridiculousness of any of it, though--she's too busy enjoying this hot, bright flare in her chest. 

~

The first date is awkward, until one of them trips and sends a tourist group sprawling and they have to run from a mob--pitchforks and everything--of Munchkins, and then they remember that they're  _ them _ and they've been doing all this for years. They remember the years of beautiful, messy living they've already done, and just like that, they fall into a pattern again. It's pretty much the same as it's always been, but with less boundaries and  _ way _ more awesome sex. 

It's not perfect, certainly. They're all a little too smart and selfish, and it takes a long time to learn about all of the insecurities, and longer to learn how to help each other. There are a lot of nights that end in fights. 

(There are even more that end in laughter between soft, awkward kisses.)

But that doesn't matter, really, because it's theirs and something  _ fiercehotbright _ burns inside them when they have to defend it. They glow with passion and warmth and love, and together, the three of them are brighter than all the stars in the sky. For the first time in a long time, things are remarkably okay. 

~

Political careers get a little confusing for a while. Technically Fiyero is some kind of prince, and Glinda and Elphaba are both daughters of regional rulers, and it's big mess when the press finds out about them. It's a bigger shitstorm when Elphaba--followed unfortunately fast by the rest of the world--finds out that the Wizard is her biological father, and there are a few uncomfortable weeks when they hide from the world. 

(There wasn't crying. Much.)

(That's a lie--there was a lot of crying.)

Glinda's family basically exiles her when they find out about the three of them, and Fiyero's parents never really defrost. Elphaba's family never loved her to begin with, and needless to say, they aren't thrilled when they find out--although Nessa gives her a nod, just once, before she leaves. It feels suspiciously like a victory. 

It hurts, yeah, but it could be worse, and they cling to that fact just as tightly as they cling to each other. Not everyone accepts them, but they've been their own family for a long time now, and they weather the storm. 

They survive. It isn't perfect, but it's beautiful. 

~

This is how it begins: a showman spends his last pennies on a ride in a weather balloon and the wind sweeps him away to a land of infinite colors--

Or maybe it begins like this: two girls that glower at each other from across the room while a boy who smiles wide enough hides the way he's shaking all the way to his foundations--

Or when, on opposite sides of the land, two women cry out in blood-slicked agony and try to breath life into precious, fragile things--

No, no, it starts when there's a girl and her dog and black-green clouds looming on the horizon, when she sings about rainbows and there's a beautiful blond woman who takes her by the shoulders and says  _ here, I'll show you the way-- _

Don't be ridiculous, there isn't a beginning or a middle or an end, there just _ is _ can't you see can't you see--

Here is what everyone knows: they are in love, hand in hand in hand, all coiled up with the power to change the world. 

What comes next is up to them. 


End file.
